


Barely Casual

by amber_sword_lilies



Category: Final Fantasy, Final Fantasy XV
Genre: F/M, Horndog Ignis tbh, Implied Sexual Content, Partial Nudity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-03
Updated: 2018-11-03
Packaged: 2019-08-17 02:44:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16507862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amber_sword_lilies/pseuds/amber_sword_lilies
Summary: The partners have a tendency to wear as little clothes as possible; the boys react with their own appreciations...





	1. Noctis

“You want to what?!”

You didn’t think it was that much of a big deal. It was just the two of you, you’d been naked together before, what was the issue now?

“Noct, it’s just skin,” you huffed a laugh.

“Yeah, I know but- we’re not at my apartment! Or yours!” his husky voice cracked. He thrust his hands into his pockets, tilting his head at you as you pulled off your jacket.

“Your room though.”

“Yeah, in the _Citadel-,_ ” he raised an eyebrow and paused when you shimmied from your jeans. You turned to him and shrugged. “Anyone could walk in! My dad, Gladio, _Ignis!_ ”

“So, lock the door,” you shrugged, sweater pooling at your feet.

“He’s got a key!”

“Noct,” you cupped his cheeks, trying not to laugh at the concentration in his face. His eyes locked on yours with a forced stillness. “It’s not like we’re _doing_ anything.”

He choked on a reply, before a small frown gathered his dark brows together. He watched you, open mouthed, as you folded your clothes up and left them on a chair.

“Wait, so… when you said _strip_ ,” he began. Words failed him as you walked over, wearing nothing but the underwear he’d seen you wiggle into this morning. “Y-you didn’t mean for…”

You lightly tapped his nose and shook your head a little.

“I don’t strip _for_ anybody.”

A knowing smile graced your lips. You turned away, eyeing up a spot in the bed. It was the best place, without a doubt. Comfortable enough, it caught the evening sun and had a stunning view of the skyline. On clear days, you could even glimpse the glittering horizon of the sea. You’d only taken one step away when you were held back. His arms slipped around your waist, lips breathing hot words into your ear.

“Not even the future king?”

You gave him about the strongest side-eye you could manage. The smirk you gave was involuntary. The wiggling of your hips was entirely on purpose.

“ _Especially_ not the future king.”


	2. Prompto

When you both traipsed back into the apartment, soaked from the rain and starting to chill, he’d expected the removal of jackets. The traditional shedding of shoes, hats, scarves, gloves.

Whipping your jeans off was a surprise. Once you were peeling your soaked shirt from your shoulders, Prompto thought he’d gotten the memo.

So, when he fell over trying to pry off his pants and boxers at the same time, and was meet with complete confusion, he wondered if _you’d_ gotten the memo.

“I thought we were…?”

“Nope,” you offered, helping him up as you stood on his pants so that he could step out. He shot you a puzzled look, one pale eyebrows quirked and hiding under his sopping wet fringe. “Skin dries faster than fabric.”

“Oh,” his pale lips formed the cutest little circle.

Realisation, embarrassment disappointment seemed to hit him in equal measures. _Great. Smooth. Well played, Prompto. Now you’re right in front of her and oh gods she’s looking. She’s looking at me and I thought it was that but it’s this and-and she’s still looking… she’s looking… she’s looking beautiful._

Already in your underwear, you launched one of the gaudy chocobo blankets his way. Dripping wet, reduced to his boxers and one soaked sock, clutching onto the blanket, he had something of a kicked puppy about him.

Until an idea struck and threw spark into those cosmic blue eyes.

He jumped clear over the couch and began to haul the cushions from it. You stood, somewhat astounded, by the mess in your living room. He ran off and returned, buried under a pile of pillows and covers. He dumped them onto the rug and immediately began burrowing underneath them.

“Prom, what _the hell_ are you doing?”

_“Pffffo fffllrt!”_

You stepped closer to animate pile of bedding as it took shape. Walls appeared here and there, a blanket roof draped over the top, even a tiny opening. It was a bona fide, if crude, igloo in your living room.

When his head poked out of the opening, cheeks flushed and damp hair sticking out in all directions, he sighed with satisfaction.

“Pillow fort, m’lady,” he sang, popping back into the den. You shook your head and couldn’t help but chuckle. You only laughed louder when you knelt, spotting him inside the tent with a blanket draped over his head, all big blue eyes and a warm grin.


	3. Ignis

“You- you don’t _mind,_ do you?”

“Of course not,” he assured. Wide green eyes told you otherwise.

“Uh-huh,” you mumbled, muffled when you pulled your shirt over your head and padded towards the laundry basket, folding the fabric before dumping it in. Ignis’ mind beginning to reel as he feebly attempted to finish a report.

_Does she have no shame? No restraint? If she wanted taken to bed, all she had to do was ask! Why was she so averse to clothing all of a sudden? Why did she have to prance about the apartment, practically naked, in JANUARY? Only ever when I settle down to work too and… and… she’s taking off her bra._

_Control yourself, Scientia! You can walk through a gallery of the finest works made on the female form and still consider the emotion of the painting. She is no different! She is not-_

You dropped onto the sofa and crossed your legs. He took relief in the fact you’d stopped gliding around like some vision. But oh, there you were. Sipping a hot coffee, reading a book and gently pouting in thought. The ambient glow of the table lamp set your skin into hazy softness. He wasn’t conscious of his eyes trailing from those delicate feet, following the slope of your shin, the peaking knee, over that book and up to where darkness pooled in your collarbone. Your lips looked so soft, surely if he kissed them, they’d bruise. They were moving slowly, mouthing around familiar syllables as they curled upwards into a muted smirk.

When he locked eyes with you, the game was up. You’d caught him. That smirk very quickly grew into an incredulous smile.

He was perfectly still for a moment, pale roses blooming on his cheeks as your voice finally broke through to him.

“Everything okay?”

He snapped the file on his lap shut.

“I’m going for a shower,” he said flatly.

“Want some company?” You shook your head gently and mumbled as he marched from the room with purpose.

“ _Please_ ,” he groaned from the hallway.


	4. Gladiolus

“Gladio?” you called from the bedroom. You’d stripped down to your underwear, but there was a chill around your shoulders. You threw on one of his flannel shirts, leaving it open, sinking into the soft feel and scent.

“Yeah?”

“We expecting anyone tonight?”

“Don’t think so…” the words slowed as they left his mouth. He leant in the doorframe, arms folded across his chest and a smirk growing on that devilish mouth of his.

“Special occasion, babe?”

You only had to shoot him a look before he held up his palms, backing out of the doorway. You slipped past him and heard him follow you to the living room.

After dropping unceremoniously onto the couch, he quickly swung your legs over his lap. He propped his newest read between your knees, his other hand idly tracing circles on your calves with calloused fingertips.

An hour later and you’d turned around, your back against his chest and wrapped in a strong arm. He’d made ground in his reading, occaisionally chuffing a laugh or widening his eyes. He was exhausted. Heavy from a long day, his eyelids were beginning to flutter shut, head dipping only to jolt back up again, as his book was held with a slacking grip. He’d begun drifting, snoring gently when it started to get to you. The heat.

Sometimes his warmth was a godsend. Always reassuring. But right now, in the middle of summer, it was a bit… _much_. You sat up as carefully as you could and shirked the flannel off, bundling it around your hand before throwing it to the end of the couch. You settled back against him, burying your nose in your phone again.

Curious fingers began to ghost patterns on your side. An appreciative hum croaked from a stubbled throat.

“Gladio,” you warned. His hands paused.

“Hmm?”

“Not an invitation.”

You turned to see his head tilted, amber eyes warm and a sleepy smile spread across those damned lips. He frowned gently and pouted. _Now there’s an invitation_.

“I know,” he nodded, a hand drifting from your hip, fingertips dragging as he met your spine and crawled upwards. When his touch passed between your shoulder blades, he smiled at your momentary tensing. His hand gently squeezed your shoulder.

“It’s just… you’re so soft,” he murmured, kissing your temple and pressing a thought into your mind.

_Oh, so I’m the soft one?_


End file.
